It was a normal – or as much as normal one could get, at night in a supernatural community – in the French Quarter. The Rousseau's bar is as usual filled with the usual customers, the Devereux siblings managing the kitchen, someone singing in the background, and a blonde bartender. No one even took notice of the conversation that happened between the witch and the hunter, a conversation that could begin it all.
The hunter lets an innocent smile play at her lips as the witch looks at her with caution. "Do think about it," were her parting words to the brunette, walking out of the bar but not without sparring a curious glance at a woman who ate alone in a table for two.
Strolling around the bust street of New Orleans, she admired the changes that this new era had brought upon the place. Music danced through the air, colour in art, buildings and lights passed through everyone's eyes, like kaleidoscope. And it grew even more, as the night went on. Of course, the land is still run by the vampires, there was no changing that. It was part of the city's roots, from the moment the Original family set foot on these lands. Though sometimes, different factions challenge the rule, it is but an impossible feat. "The past does not define our future," they always say. It was a lie, especially to a certain girl.
This wasn't how their story began; this was more like the short ones in between. This is like the parts where one could savor peace, happiness and innocence. And even then, she was always ahead of him. "Catch me, if you can!" The little girl taunts, running through the forest. Her playmate, a boy with blonde hair hot on her; giggles could be heard between the trees as they continued to play despite the setting sun. It would be dark soon, and when the moon and stars settle in the sky, they would have to return to the safety of their house, or they may suffer the wrath of their parents.
"Ouch!" The blonde boy heard his friend exclaim as she fell from where she stood, prompting him to run to her in haste. The brunette could only smile as she watches her friend, frantically look at the wound. "This is why I told you to wear your shoes, Charlotte," he scolds her.
"You aren't careful enough," he would always say as he carried her small frame in his back. She would never admit it aloud, but she wasn't a damsel in distress, far from it. Charlotte was more than capable of handling herself, it was just Niklaus always assuming the knight in shining armor role, and who was she to stop him.
"You can't ALWAYS catch me when I fall," she whispers in his back, with a small smile for her worried friend.
"No, but I can always try," was his usual reply.
Yes, this was one of those precious moments when as a child, they could live in their own world.
These memories seem so far away now, like a distant dream. Lighting a candle in an empty alleyway, praying and hoping, that whatever it is to come, may God have mercy on the souls of the people caught in a brewing war, especially in her's.